On My Own
by syntheticpoetry
Summary: Everyone has a soulmate whose name is written around their wrist. It just so happens that Kurt has two. The only problem? His soulmates only have one—each other's.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Started this ages ago and never got around to posting it up. **

* * *

He stares down at the faint impressions on each of his wrists.

They had finally started to grow bolder, some of the letters now legible for the first time in his seven years of existence. This was the case for everyone. They were born into life with predetermined fates and Kurt Hummel was no exception. Well, he was almost classified as "no exception." While everyone possessed one perfect combination of a first and last name… Kurt's wrists bore two.

He stares down at his wrists again and ponders.

Curiosity often frees itself from his precious little mind and allows him to verbalize each of his concerns. How was he meant to find the owners of these names? Was he meant to seek them out? Or, rather, would they come to him instead? What if there were multiple souls with the same name—how would he know which was the right one?

"Such heavy questions for a boy of seven," his father always tells him.

Kurt can make out the still somewhat faint markings of an intricate scripted "B " and an "A " on his right wrist, the letter "S" is repeated just as intricately on his left; all of the in between letters are still far too light to fully decipher. He checks everyday for notable change, but his father informs him that until puberty it will still be near impossible to read. And so, impatiently, Kurt waits.

His father, Burt, like everyone else, possesses only one name combination and zero absolute explanations for Kurt. He chalks it up to the possibility that Kurt can choose which of the two he wants, a luxury that others are not blessed with. He speculates kindly, offering only the happiest and sweetest possibilities to his boy.

But Kurt is not the average boy of seven and as he grows older his thoughts take a darker approach. But then again, when your mother leaves this earth at your ripe old age of nine it's damn near impossible to keep from slipping into cynicism. While watching his father bite his cheeks to keep from crying at the funeral, the pessimistic thought takes hold of Kurt.

Perhaps the second name on his wrist means that he is fated to experience the same tragedy, the same loss, as his father. _In the case of a loss of one, well… here's the other._ He doesn't take any comfort in this idea at all. These were fellow human beings who should be treated with the same amount of affection as anyone else; the thought of one of the names on his wrist being a possible consolation prize, a back-up in case of catastrophe, leaves him feeling dizzy and nauseous. He keeps this one to himself rather than express his concerns to his grieving father. His downtrodden father whose spirit is now broken with the absence of the only one he was fated for.

Kurt decides then and there that this world of prearranged soul mates is cruel and wonders if a place of free will even exists in some other galaxy.

Such heavy thoughts for a boy of nine.

* * *

The cynicism and darkness follows him all throughout middle school as he watches classmates effortlessly partner off. He is a late bloomer and the only hints he has to go on still are the more prominent "B " "A " "S" and "S." He keeps his wrists covered to avoid further torment from the others. But they pay him no mind. The bitter truth of it all is that the majority of them are only concerned about the names they seek out. In a world so obsessed with "love" and "forever after" Kurt finds it silly that no one has any time for friendship. He coasts through middle school with a cumbersome heart and enough friends to count on one hand.

Even though he didn't think it possible, high school is much worse. The halls are filled with such blatant PDA that he actually gags when he passes by the couples on display. They shoot him dirty looks and call him jealous and bitter because he's still alone. And it shouldn't hit him so hard, but it does. His acrimony reaches a new level and he considers filling in the spaces between the bold, capital letters with a pen just to at least appear a little normal to the rest of them.

In addition to his peers' alienation, he manages to attract the attention of a certain individual who has no clue how to channel his anger. Dave Karofsky first introduces himself to Kurt with a forceful shove followed by a, "Watch where you're going, fag." It takes everything within Kurt to keep his poor spirit from being crushed under the weight of all of this teen pressure.

Karofsky's degree of torture escalates from forceful shoves once he actually learns Kurt's name. Pretty soon Kurt is being spit on, thrown into dumpters, pelted with food, and "accidentally" tripped in addition to the usual shoving and name-calling. He keeps his head high and refuses to give in though; he may label himself as some sort of freak for the two names on his wrists, but he'll be damned if he lets anyone else tear him down the way he does all on his own.

He doesn't question Karofsky's actions. In fact, he barely gives him the time of day. After being shoved, he simply stands up, brushes his clothes off, and walks away. Karofsky stares after him, always half in anger and half in wonderment, and punches a nearby locker. Kurt's indifference makes his blood boil and he can't comprehend how his skinny classmate has the ability to just walk away without uttering a single word.

* * *

His only saving grace is the Glee club he attends after school. But even still, sometimes he feels like a stranger among friends. Even they're all pairing off amongst themselves, reveling in the serendipity of finding each other. He _does_ feel at home with this band of misfits, but something is still missing and he isn't sure if he'll find it amongst them.

One day in particular, he walks into a meeting where the topic of talk is an all-boys prep school meant to be their rivals in an upcoming competition. The subject of "spying" surfaces and all eyes settle on Kurt. He stammers a string of incomplete excuses but somehow still manages to find himself descending a spiral staircase amongst a sea of blue blazers. He sticks out like a sore thumb and he and everyone around him knows it.

Kurt spots the back of a boy's head, some black curls springing free from a lazy gel style, and tries to get his attention.

"Excuse me? Excuse me!" he raises an arm, his falsetto voice garnering attention from a few other onlookers. The black haired boy spins around and stray curls are replaced with a fluffy comb over. He raises his eyebrows at Kurt inquisitively. "Sorry, I'm uh… I'm a little lost, see I'm new here and," Kurt can't stop staring into his perfect hazel eyes, "What's going on? Where's everybody going?"

The boy smiles, knowingly, and his hazel eyes sparkle magnificently, "To see the Warblers rehearse, of course!"

"This school is… into that sort of thing?" Kurt asks, shocked, thinking of all of the unwarranted bullying and attention being in Glee club at McKinley has brought on for him and his fellow members.

"Uhhh, yeah!" he responds with a chuckle. "Come on," he takes Kurt's hand in his own and leads him off. Kurt stares down at their hands for only a second before they break into a run down an empty hall and into a room already filled with people.

"About time!" one of the boys standing in the middle of the room exclaims and Blaine releases Kurt's hand, flashing him a smile as he backs up towards the group of boys to get into position. Kurt watches with wide eyes as they launch into song and dance around the room. He can't force his mind to focus on the fact that these are meant to be his rivals, that he's here strictly to spy and report back to McKinley; all he _can_ focus on is the way this nameless beauty seems to be staring straight at him, as if he were serenading him personally.

Kurt thinks about how his "misfortune" of being elected spy of the group is turning out to be really rather fortunate after all.

* * *

After the performance, Kurt still can't stop staring. He feels giddy, drunk off of something much more powerful than alcohol. He's unaware of his surroundings until he somehow manages to find himself sitting at a table with the black haired boy and another student and is being called out for spying. Suddenly he crash-lands back into his body and looks from face to face, terrified.

"So who sent you?" still nameless, hazel-eyed beauty asks.

"I'm uh," Kurt clears his throat, "Well, I'm from McKinley. But I-I'm sorry. I- "

Hazel-eyes smiles and Kurt relaxes a little, "I sort of figured it out back on the staircase."

"So then why did you bring me to your rehearsal?" Kurt's unsure if he's actually in trouble or not.

"Because he loves to show off," the boy beside hazel-eyes smirks. "Don't you, babe?" he rests his hand on top of the black haired boy's and Kurt feels a flutter of wings suddenly stop in his stomach.

"I don't mean to be rude, but um…" he tries to think of some subtle phrasing, but comes up with none, "Is everyone in the school gay?" Kurt can't fathom why else everyone would be so respectful of each other.

The two boys before him exchange a look and laugh. "Well, we are. But no, not everyone. There's zero tolerance for bullying here though." Kurt nods solemnly in response. "God, where are my manners? I'm Blaine, by the way. Blaine Anderson. And this is- "

"Sebastian Smythe," the boy beside Blaine offers his hand out to Kurt. But Kurt doesn't take it right away; he's still caught up on the mention of a "zero tolerance policy regarding bullying" statement. Suddenly his eyes are misting over and the weight of how bothered he actually is by Karofsky's bullying settles firmly on his chest. "Woah, uh," Sebastian looks to Blaine, who is studying Kurt like he understands perfectly about the unmentioned source of Kurt's emotional state.

"Sorry," Kurt turns his gaze down to the table and dabs at his eyes with the end of his sleeve. "Sorry, I…" he dabs at his eyes again and Blaine interjects.

"You having a tough time back at your school?"

Sebastian looks to Blaine, as if wondering how he could have ever drawn that possible conclusion without a single word from Kurt to go on, but when he looks back to Kurt he understands how. Kurt's let loose a few more tears, unable to catch them all and soak them up with his cotton sleeves, and Sebastian replays the conversation in his head to locate the exact moment Kurt had started to feel upset. Blaine was always reminding him how unobservant he was, how completely oblivious to things when they initially happened. Truth be told, Sebastian had been too busy focusing on the way Kurt stared at Blaine; his jealousy was the only culprit today in regards to his "obliviousness."

"Glee club isn't exactly… _cool_ back at my school," Kurt sniffles and Sebastian searches his pockets until he's able to produce a tissue for him. Blaine squeezes Sebastian's thigh under the table and flashes a brief smile. Kurt takes it and blows his nose before continuing, "And there's this… this guy that just, he's always had it out for me and I don't know why. And it's like everyone is just… blind to it. Nobody notices because nobody _wants_ to notice, you know?"

Sebastian _doesn't_ know, but Blaine nods in agreement with Kurt. "Yeah, I know what that's like. I used to get bullied at my last school, uh…"

"Kurt. Kurt Hummel," he offers meekly so Blaine can continue with his explanation.

"Kurt," the name sounds so natural slipping off of his tongue like that, "But I ran from them. I came here and… to this day I… regret it. If I could go back, if I could change it, I would have stood up to them." Blaine's hand searches for Sebastian's under the table until their fingers are entwined and he's anchored himself to the boy beside him. Sebastian knows how painful it is for Blaine to revisit these memories, knows that usually the only ways to calm Blaine down once he's back in his old mindset are to let him take it out on a punching bag or let him top in bed. The crushing grip Blaine has on Sebastian's hand would have to do for now though.

"Do you think that's what I should do? Stand up to him?" Kurt clutches the soppy tissue in his fist and stares at Blaine for an answer as though he is some sort of messiah to him.

"Do _you_ think it's what you should do?" Blaine loosens his grip on Sebastian's hand. "Consider it: would you feel better running or taking a stand? I can't tell you what to do, I'm only telling you what I wish, everyday, that I had done."

Kurt nods and Sebastian can't bring himself to view Kurt as a threat anymore. Not now anyways. The way he sees it, this could be good for Blaine as well: helping Kurt overcome the demons that Blaine obviously still battles with everyday. So Sebastian bites his tongue and keeps his mouth shut when Blaine releases his hand and stands up to hug Kurt and bid him, "Farewell," and "Good luck!" with his signature flashy grin of encouragement.

Once Kurt is out of view though Sebastian turns to Blaine, "You know… the rest of the guys won't be happy we let a spy go without consequences."

Blaine shrugs in response, "What'll they do, kick us out?"

Sebastian sneers and pulls Blaine down onto his lap, "Like hell they will. They know they couldn't last a single competition without us." He plants a delicate kiss on Blaine's cheek but Blaine's currently miles away with Kurt's name buzzing around his head enough to make him dizzy.

* * *

**Please review if you liked. There will be more to come.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: I have all of these really cool fonts picked out for everyone's names... but they don't show up on here. Bummer. I'll work on screen capping them and including links so you can all see, but anyways hope you enjoy!**

* * *

It's only when Kurt rubs the crusted sleep from his eyes a few days later on his sixteenth birthday that the rest of the letters have finally made an appearance. The familiarity of these names nags at his sleepy brain until he suddenly realizes why. Blaine Anderson and Sebastian Smythe, his newly discovered friends. His heart pumps madly in his chest as he tells himself there is no way this can be coincidence. The presentation of the two names simultaneously, along with the fact that he had been introduced to the two boys as a pair, must be fate. Despite his usual bitterness towards the subject, he rushes downstairs to show his father.

"Blaine Anderson and Sebastian Smythe?" Burt asks in a sleepy drawl as he pushes egg yolks around a frying pan with a wooden spoon. "Guess this means I can finally get Janine to stop trying to get me to set you up with her daughter."

Kurt blinks, his head tilting slightly to the right, "Who's Janine?"

"Remember Ryan from work? His wife," Burt scratches the back of his neck and Kurt eyes him with sad sympathy. He knows how lonely his father gets and he also knows that aside from work, Burt never goes anywhere. Kurt still catches him staring at his wrist from time to time, tracing over the only real remnants of his mother with his finger. He hears the sobs that wrack his body, but knows that letting his father know he's aware would only embarrass him. Still, he wishes he could help his father meet someone new, someone who would deserve all of the love he still has left to give.

"Oh yeah, I remember now. She's nice," Kurt comments but, though his heart is with his father, his mind is too preoccupied. He stares down at his wrists in wonderment and announces he isn't hungry before running back into his bedroom to get dressed for school.

"Hey! Wait, I know you're not crazy about eggs but these are mine! Your birthday breakfast is- " Burt calls after him.

"Okay, okay! Give me a minute, I need to get ready or I'll be late!" Kurt shouts back in a singsong voice. Burt shakes his head and opens the microwave where he pulls out a plate of pancakes with strawberry eyes, a bacon mouth, and whipped cream hair. He knows Kurt has outgrown the childish presentation of such a meal, but it had been their little tradition to keep alive since Mollie's death. She would wake up early every year on Kurt's birthday and prepare the little surprise for him; while it stings them both to reminisce on her absence on a day that should mean joy, they couldn't and wouldn't start the day off any other way.

Kurt waltzes back into the kitchen, fully aware of the meal that awaits him, and smiles the same crooked bacon-smile as his pancake companion. His father's pancakes never taste the same as he remembers the way his mother's tasted, and for this reason he loves them that much more.

"You know I was only kidding, I would never pass this up," Kurt announces as he takes the first bite. Burt pats his son's shoulder and they spend the short remainder of their free time smiling and eating silently before Kurt leaves for school.

Karofsky immediately picks up on Kurt's good mood the second he walks into school. There's a spring in his step and a grin the length of ten football fields adorning his face. Kurt is looking at his cell phone fondly. A text from Blaine with a single word fills the screen but it's all that he feels he needs to get him through the day.

"Courage," Kurt recites the word softly to himself, absolutely smitten already.

Karofsky strides over to Kurt, towering over him, and Kurt stops walking to look up at him. Without hesitation, he shoves Kurt into a set of lockers and walks away. But Kurt follows him this time and suddenly they're alone in an abandoned gym locker room.

"Get the fuck away from me, fag. You here to sneak a look at me?"

"You're a disgusting pig! What have I ever done to you?!" Kurt demands, stomping his booted foot so hard against the tiled floor that it echoes throughout the room for a few seconds.

"Brought that disgusting little gay ass into my school," Karofsky stares back smugly, thinking he's won.

"Well my 'disgusting little gay ass' isn't going anywhere so just get used to it. I'm never going to change myself because of insecure, myopic jerks like- " Karofsky cuts him off by grabbing Kurt's face between his hands and kissing him. He pulls away and searches Kurt's eyes before leaning in to kiss him again. Kurt shoves him away, his face resembling a deer in headlights.

Karofsky slides a battered and faded black wristband off, revealing: '_Kurt Hummel_ ' in a sloppy font much different than the carefully crafted letters on Kurt's skin. Kurt's breath hitches in his throat. "Show me your wrist," Karofsky states quietly.

"Don't you dare touch me. Get away from me," Kurt starts to back away but Karofsky pulls him forward by his shirt.

"Show it to me, Kurt!" he demands and forcefully pushes both of Kurt's shirtsleeves up to check which wrist is inscribed. A small sob leaves Kurt's quickly crumpling frame as Karofsky ensnares both of his arms in a vice grip.

"Stop it, you're hurting me!" tears trek into Kurt's desperate, pleading mouth but Karofsky doesn't hear him. Instead, he hears the blood pounding in his ears as he sees that Kurt has not only one name, but two, and neither say 'Dave Karofsky.' Karofsky isn't sure whether to feel upset or angry, but in a split second he's decided to combine the two emotions in the form of throwing Kurt to the ground and kicking him until he's bruised, bleeding, and motionless. Kurt lays in a crumpled heap, curled up defensively, and Karofsky soaks up the image before realizing what his total loss of control has caused him to do; he panics and sprints away, leaving Kurt on the moldy tiled floor.

Kurt peeks through the space between his arm and torso when he hears the quickly retreating footsteps and tries convincing himself to stand up, but his body feels too heavy and somehow the floor seems much more comfortable. He had put all of his energy into laying still and keeping silent, playing dead so Karofsky would stop and leave him be. Tremors trickle through his body now and he keeps himself wrapped up tight, staying in his fetal position until his muscles ache when the bell rings and students finally start filing in to get changed.

He's surrounded by a violent wave of gasps from anonymous onlookers, unable to bring himself to show his face to any of them. He feels embarrassed to be laid out here like this, on display and garnering sympathy from people he's probably never said more than two words to.

"Kurt…?" the voice he hears sounds distant and unrecognizable. "Let me through! Hey, come on let me through- MOVE!" Kurt cringes and manages to defensively contort himself even more. He hears the shuffling of feet and murmurs that spread like wildfire, echoing too loudly and making his head hurt.

"Hey, hey it's gonna be okay," there's someone kneeling beside him now, whispering, and he still can't recognize who it is. "Kurt, say something if you can hear me?"

"Something," Kurt's voice comes out in a small and weary croak. "…Finn?"

"Yeah, it's me. Can you move?" Finn's voice is coated with a thick layer of concern.

"I-I... I think I- "

"Shut up, will you!" Finn scolds their audience and returns his attention to Kurt, his concerned tone making an appearance once again. "Sorry, what did you say? Can you move?"

"Yeah, I think… I think so," Kurt remains in the same position regardless. He lowers his voice and Finn has to sink down further into the ground just to be able to hear him, "Are there a lot of people here?" he sounds frightened and self conscious and if he were able to bring himself to lift his head, even slightly, he would notice Finn's heartbreak clearly evident on his face; though they were really only acquaintances, Finn had never seen Kurt exude anything less than pure confidence.

"I'll get them out of here, don't worry. I'll make them leave," Finn fully takes in the sight of him and struggles to keep his anger in check. He turns to face the crowd; their murmuring had escalated to rambunctious chattering by now, but silence overtakes the room when they notice Finn's demeanor. He's in no mood to fight, can't even begin to fathom the idea of begging. "Can you guys please clear out so I can get him out of here?"

And they obey, the majority of them filing out until only a handful of stragglers are left behind. Finn decides it's better than a full room and returns his attention to Kurt again. His frail, sort-of-friend is trembling from head to toe and trying to contain his sobs to muffled static against his arms. "What hurts the most, Kurt? I wanna help you up but I don't know where's safe to touch you."

Kurt speaks into his arm, something unintelligible that Finn doesn't quite catch and has to ask him to repeat. With a little coaxing from him Kurt adjusts his head ever so slightly to the right and mumbles, "My chest, the side of my chest really hurts."

Finn knows injuries. Years as an athletic kid have taught him about them. When Kurt mentions the chest pain he's immediately reminded of a teammate who had gone down during last week's football game: fractured ribs. "I'm going to help you sit up and we'll take it slow from there, alright?" He's pleased when he receives a small nod from Kurt.

Finn tries to be gentle, but, really, it isn't in his nature. While he may be graceful on the football field, the moment he steps off of it he's just another clumsy, too-tall-for-his-age teenager who doesn't know his own strength. But this is important; he keeps reminding himself that even if he may perceive his movements to be gentle he must tone it down at least four times more. He places his hands on either side of Kurt's shoulders and, in the slowest way possible, positions the other boy into an upright position. Kurt immediately hisses in pain and leans against Finn for support. It's now that Finn notices how awful Kurt's face looks despite probably having tried to defend himself. His heart aches again and for some reason a pang of guilt strikes through it like an arrow.

"You're doing great, Kurt. Nice and slow still," Finn chokes out. He'd much rather sit here and hold Kurt until the pain passes instead of try to move him and have to hear all of those sharp intakes of breaths. "I'm going to pick you up, alright?"

"Okay," Kurt braces himself and bitterly thinks about what an awful birthday this is quickly becoming. Finn gives them both another second before he picks Kurt up, bridal style, and furrows his brows at some onlookers still crowding the door. They part like the Red Sea and Kurt snakes his arms around Finn's neck, biting back the searing impulses of pain, as he hides his face somewhere between his own arm and Finn's skin.

His mind is still lingering on Dave Karofsky when they get to the nurse's office, when his father comes barging into the office an hour later, and when the empty room he'd been resting in suddenly feels a little too crowded. Burt Hummel tones down his anger, much like Finn had, in order to talk to his son but Kurt still picks it out easily. There's an edge Kurt's never been exposed to before and it sends shivers down his spine.

"Who did it, Kurt?"

Kurt debates whether or not he should say. It's not that he doesn't believe he deserves the justice in the apprehension of his attacker, but he had wanted to deal with Dave without having to involve his father or anyone else. His head spins as he tries to rationalize his thoughts and assure himself that telling on Karofsky doesn't mean he's a coward, a lesser man, but that he's choosing to enlist the help he so desperately needs and deserves. As he's about to open his mouth, Finn steps into view—had he been waiting in the office the entire time?

"Mr. Hummel? I think I know who attacked him," Finn shuffles forward, approaching Burt with an unreadable air about him.

"Who are you?"

"Finn Hudson, I'm—Kurt and I are in Glee club together," Finn keeps his back straight, refusing to back down from Burt. "He's been picking on Kurt for awhile now—I can't think of anyone else that it could be."

This takes Kurt by surprise; he had assumed that all of Karofsky's tormenting had gone unnoticed. Both Burt and Finn turn their attention to Kurt and he swallows thickly, hoping Finn will just continue so that he won't have to actually navigate his way through the desert in his mouth and produce intelligible sounds.

"His name's Dave Karofsky, he's on the football team with me," Finn doesn't disappoint Kurt's silent request and Burt clenches his knuckles at the mention of "football" being in the same sentence with the name of his son's attacker.

"Thank you for helping my boy out, I'll go talk to Principal Figgins about this right now," Burt speaks through closed teeth, distorting his gratitude into perceived tolerance instead, but Finn doesn't flinch—Kurt admires him for that.

"I could stay with Kurt," Finn suggests. "If you want."

Burt looks to Kurt again, who swallows thickly once more before nodding, and grunts approval before leaving the room. Finn exhales loudly and shoots off a low whistle.

"Christ, your dad scares the hell out of me," Finn plops down on the cot across from Kurt and scratches the side of his head.

"He's a teddy bear," Kurt leans his head against his outstretched arm. "Thank you, by the way. For—I didn't think anyone paid attention."

"I wish I said something sooner, maybe none of this would have even happened, you know?" Finn moves his hand to the back of his neck and rubs gingerly. "Ah hell."

"Why didn't you?" Kurt presses on, partly curious, partly a little bitter in light of Finn's confession.

"I didn't know he was singling you out like that. Guy's a jerk, he talks shit to everyone. Plus, I mean, well I see how you are in Glee club," Finn presses his hand harder against his neck and rubs a little slower. Any more friction and Kurt thinks Finn might actually start a fire against his own skin. "How confident you are. I just figured you didn't let it bother you. But that's stupid. Of course it bothered you, I should have—"

"You're a good friend, Finn," Kurt interrupts, the ice around his heart thawing out a little. "We… are friends, right?"

"Of course we are," Finn stares. "Us Glee club kids have to stick together, right?"

"Right," Kurt lets out a small laugh and lets the message sink in. He thinks about how funny his life is becoming lately, between meeting both of his soulmates only yesterday to calling Finn Hudson his friend today. "It's my birthday today," he blurts out and Finn's smile fades, his body slumping down to match his quickly deflating mood.

"Happy birthday, Kurt," he says quietly. "Depending on how you're feeling maybe some of us can come visit you later?"

"Sure," Kurt responds brightly and, after a moment, adds, "Would you mind meeting some new friends of mine if they want to stop by too?"

* * *

**Yikes! Hang in there, Kurt!**


End file.
